


Shall I Compare Thee to a Summer's Day?

by JustAboutMidnight



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Soft Boys, Sokka the poet, Tiny bit of praise kink, Zuko is an Awkward Turtleduck, dumb boys in love, first...other stuff too, getting together anyone??, he just wants to be pet, v pure though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-26
Updated: 2020-06-26
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:35:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24919930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustAboutMidnight/pseuds/JustAboutMidnight
Summary: “Thou art more lovely, but less temperate...”Sokka likes giving Zuko compliments. Zuko, the prickly pear, likes receiving them. Also, he doesn't know how to deal with his feelings other than bottling them up and (semi-spontaneously) spouting poetry.
Relationships: Sokka/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 64
Kudos: 1056





	Shall I Compare Thee to a Summer's Day?

**Author's Note:**

> Carelessly proof-read so I apologize for any mistakes. This was going to end with a cute kiss, but then I got high so a little bit of sex happened (◡ ‿ ◡ ✿) Set approximately after Boiling Rock. Zukka Nation Forever!

The first time he did it, Sokka wasn’t thinking too hard. Truth be told, he wasn’t thinking at all—but he was busy organizing a war effort, he didn’t have time to police his _mouth_. The thing was, too, that he was _used_ to that kind of stuff. Putting on a filter would’ve never occurred to him. He’d listened to his father and Bato for the first thirteen years of his life— _“No, braid it over the top, you wear that style better than anyone”_ —and he and Nanouk used to rib each other that way, back home— _“Nice shot! Sharp eyes, prettyboy!”_ Aang, too, was totally on board with the casual compliment game. _“Wow, cool new wraps, Sokka! They make your tan stand out.” “Thanks, my man. You know, the whole having-hair thing really works on you!”_

So the first time he did it, it really wasn’t intentional. It was a random thought that fell into his head and out of his mouth one day while watching them train.

“Watch it, you’re gonna scorch me!”

“We’re being careful, Sokka—”

“I’ve gotta stop wearing this down around you two,” he ran a hand through his hair. “Ever set your ponytail on fire, Zuko? Man, you sure are a lot cuter without it.”

If he’d bothered to consider the consequences, he’d have expected Zuko to fry him. Instead, his face went all funny— half-confused, half-surprised, all scowling and blushing— and it took a few seconds of silence before he started snapping that it’d been a _phoenix tail_ , and _no_ , of _course_ he’d never set his hair on fire while training. Don’t be stupid.

Sokka had been pleasantly surprised.

After that, he’d started paying more attention. I mean, sure, he’d looked at Zuko plenty of times— he just kept showing his face, didn’t he?— but he’d never really _looked_. He was looking now, and you know what? Zuko really _was_ cute. Yeah, the scar wasn’t exactly gorgeous, but Sokka barely even saw that anymore. 

Messing with Zuko held eternal charm, so he started making an effort to reproduce the scowl-blush. As he quickly found out, it wasn’t difficult— in fact, it was positively _easy_ to make Zuko go red.

“Looking in fine form today, Sifu Hotman,” Sokka would wink, walking past Zuko’s morning katas. And Zuko would flush and frown and look away, and Sokka would grin to himself. Or, “Careful! You’ll burn dinner!” And Zuko would protest that he was firebending as carefully as he could, only for Sokka to whistle, “Maybe, but _you’re_ too hot.” And then Zuko would clamp his mouth shut and furrow his brow, turning as pink as a summer poppy.

Sokka loved it.

Of course, he had to get more creative after the first few times, but luckily Zuko had many features he could wax poetic over. His hair was blacker than winter’s midnight; his eyes were twin suns, burning out of his face. That royal skin! So smooth and clear! And, my word, your majesty, those cheekbones! Have you ever tried cutting glass?

And every time, Zuko would look angry and happy and irritated and flattered and confused, and like he truly did not know what to do with himself. Gods, had he never even been _complimented_ before? And then Sokka realized that no, he probably hadn’t been (or at least not very much). Something in his chest went a little funny at that thought, and he’d put down his boomerang to go find Zuko and tell him he’d better stay away from the Spirit World (Koh would do anything for a face like that, your majesty).

Tonight, Zuko wasn’t in any of his usual places. His room was empty, the western courtyard was deserted, and the fountain was gurgling along in solitude. Sokka couldn’t even hear the low roar of his firebending. It was surprisingly disheartening, this lack of Zuko; and Sokka found himself picking his way down to the river, muttering as he plotted his next verbal ambush.

He’d done the hair, done the eyes— of course, he could probably spend a week on the eyes alone, if given the chance. Maybe he could say something about the nose… it was strong but aristocratic, nostrils symmetrical down to the centimeter. Oh gods, that was probably a weird thing to notice, wasn’t it? He really wished the body was an option, too — Zuko had so much material there to work with — but each time he contemplated it, he felt a bit…funny. He’d start thinking about strong hands and shoulders, and Zuko’s lithe grace (he didn’t even want to acknowledge the six-pack), and alarm bells would start going off somewhere in the back of his head. No, best stick to the neck up, thank you very much.

The path through the woods was strewn with leaves, but Sokka knew how to walk, and silently moved down to the riverbank. The cicadacrickets were making an unholy racket in the trees— below, a silvery half-moon wavered in the rushing water. He stripped off in about five seconds and dove in with a _FWOOOM!_ of bubbles; the cold water streamed through his loose hair, putting a glorious sting in his nose and open eyes. When he came up, the din of lapping water and chirping badgerfrogs sounded louder than ever. 

It felt incredible to be in the water again, and Sokka swam laps from one bank to another, thinking all the while about Zuko. Yeah, the nose thing was probably too weird to mention, and so was the way he smelled — like ash-banana bread, all warm and spicy — so he’d have to come up with something else. He dug a foot into the muddy bank absent-mindedly. What would Zuko be the most insecure about? The scar, probably, but you couldn’t have paid Sokka to bring that up. What else? How could you be insecure, anyway, when you looked like Zuko? Maybe it was time to start compliments about his firebending — _that_ certainly hadn’t been praised enough — but Sokka wasn’t sure he was ready to move on. Zuko had spent his entire adolescence, the most insecure phase of life, worrying himself to death about destiny and honor. Who knew if he’d even had time to consider his own changing looks? There was every chance that he really _didn’t_ know how gorgeous he was, every chance that he thought the scar had ruined him, and Sokka wanted to make it his business to set the record straight. Set the record straight about those eyes, and that hair, and the hollow plains of Zuko’s face — his back, his chest, the V of his hips under low-slung trousers as he trained…

Sokka stopped.

Because—was that— was that a _twitch?_

Oh, gods. It wasn’t just a twitch. It was a _stirring_. Most, most definitely a stirring.

Nope, nope, nope.

He submerged with a splash, water pressure roaring in his ears. No, brain. Definitely not. Nope. He would not keep thinking about this. He would hold his breath as long as he could, and table the issue of the next compliment until tomorrow. _Nothing_ was worth thinking about that, even if Zuko _did_ blush for all he was worth these days if Sokka so much as looked at him too long. Lovely color, really, and he couldn’t help but wonder if other parts of Zuko flushed pink, too…?

Nope. Nope, nope, nope.

He came up and submerged twice more, halfway between trying to asphyxiate himself and trying to continue his line of thought. The fourth time he went under, he made himself dive all the way down to touch the bottom before coming back up.

 _That’ll teach you,_ he thought, lungs burning as he shot towards the surface. _That’ll teach you to mentally undress your friends, you dirty heathen._

He burst into the air with a splash.

“ _Ahhh!_ ”

Someone yelled, Sokka jumped, and water shot up his nose like a fountain. Coughing and cursing and spluttering, he tread water and tried to get a look at whoever was on the dark riverbank. Just his luck. Captured by the Fire Nation, and he was buck ass naked.

But it wasn’t the Fire Nation— at least, not all of it. It was Zuko, gold eyes round and alarmed in the dark.

“Gods, Sokka! You scared me!”

“ _I_ scared _you?_ ” Sokka coughed, trying to ignore the very sudden and prominent sensation of nudity. “You’re the one that yelled!”

“Sorry,” Zuko frowned, inching a little closer to the water. “But you were underwater for about five years.”

“It wasn’t even five minutes.”

“Whatever,” Zuko frowned some more. Sokka, now recovering his faculties, saw with a— nope, nope, nope, _not_ a twitch— that almost all of the fastenings on Zuko’s shirt were open, and a triangle of smooth, well-muscled abdomen was visible. Had he been about to take a bath, too? If only Sokka could have stayed underwater about thirty seconds longer…

_Oh my gods, Sokka! Quit it!_

“So,” Zuko said, now shifting from foot to foot. “What’re you doing?”

Man, he was awkward. Sokka grinned.

“Frolicking in the starlight. Care to join me, your majesty?”

Zuko scowled. “I need to rinse off, not _frolic_. I’m disgusting.”

“Suit yourself,” Sokka winked. “You look pretty great to me, though.”

He just couldn’t help himself. Zuko’s face looked like it didn’t know what to do with itself, and, sure enough, there were those red patches creeping up his cheeks. His teeth sank into his lower lip, his black eyebrow bunching up, and yep, okay, _definitely_ stirring.

Sokka was immeasurably grateful for the dark water. He hung out there, doggy-paddling and grinning up at Zuko, who still looked like he had something stuck in his throat. Finally, he grunted and glanced off to the side.

“Why?”

So infuriatingly, adorably terse. 

“Why what?”

“Why,” Zuko repeated, staring doggedly over Sokka’s shoulder, “do you keep doing that?”

Sokka’s stomach dropped. “What, complimenting you?”

“Whatever you want to call it,” Zuko said, and wow, his cheeks were _blazing_ now. “Why are you making fun of me?”

Sokka’s mouth dropped open. He was so surprised that for a second he forgot to paddle and started sinking, and had to hurriedly resume.

“I’m not making fun of you.”

“Yes, you are,” Zuko snapped, still not looking at him.

“No, I’m not! Honestly—what— what, this whole time, you thought I was just screwing with you?”

“Sokka, I’m serious,” Zuko said, and that was worse, because he was _murmuring_ now. “Please.”

Ouch. “Zuko, look at me.”

He didn’t.

“Zuko, _look at me_.”

He did, but reluctantly. His mismatched eyes were phosphorescent in the dark.

“I am _not_ making fun of you,” Sokka said. “Okay, part of it’s just teasing, but you really are—I mean, I really do think that—um, well—you just deserve some compliments, okay?”

He was kind of regretting making Zuko look him in the face now, because those cat eyes were hard to meet.

“I mean it,” he added lamely.

Zuko looked down a second later, long fingers fiddling with his half-open shirt. “You do?”

Sokka’s heart melted at his tone—wary, cautious, hopeful, like he _wanted_ to believe it, but couldn’t.

“Yeah. Of course I do.”

Brief silence. The nighttime din was extremely audible.

“By the way,” Sokka said, heart pounding, “when you blink like that, your eyelashes look like a velvetmoth’s wing.”

One, too, three seconds later, and Zuko’s cheeks were brilliant again.

“You’d make a terrible poet,” he muttered.

“What?” Sokka demanded. “I’m an excellent poet! You think you could do better?”

Zuko cleared his throat. “I could try.”

Sokka started sinking again. “What?”

“I could try.” Zuko crouched, rocking back on his heels and squeezing his eyes shut. “I could tell you that your eyes are mirrors always showing the ocean. I could tell you that the sun follows your footsteps.”

Sokka stopped treading water completely and stared. Had he somehow ingested cactus juice at dinner?

“I could tell you that your lines are like a kata. The way they _should_ be done. Especially now, when—” Gods, he was blushing more than ever— “when your shoulders— and you’ve still got your necklace on—”

Sokka could feel his own face flaming. There was another concentrated heat, too, just below the water. 

“That’s not really poetry.”

“Fine.” Zuko stood and started pacing on the riverbank. Now that he’d started, he seemed unable to stop, and he was pretty cute when he was flustered. “Eros wishes he could do what you do. When you look at me like that… it feels like I’ve got comets under my skin. And you’re pure gold from the inside out, which is better than golden eyes any day.” He glared, crossing his arms. “Happy?”

Sokka grinned. His heart was going a million miles an hour. “How’s all that any better than the twin suns thing?”

Zuko blinked, and blushed, and tried to close his eyes, and then glared because that would be stupid. He could only tighten his arms and blush harder, which made Sokka’s heartbeat rev up even higher.

“I guess it’s not.”

“I don’t mind, though. Pray, go on.”

Zuko grunted again, plainly regretting everything and hoping that Agni would strike him down any second. Sokka made a split-second decision. 

“Get in.”

“Excuse me?”

“C’mon, get in with me.” 

Zuko cracked his good eye open, halfway between mortified and incredulous. “No.”

“Do it,” Sokka threatened, “or I’ll start talking about how your eyes are pools of toffee, and your hair is ink-spun silk, and your nostrils are incredibly symmetrical—”

“ _What?_ ” Zuko sputtered, which gave Sokka just enough time to shoot out a hand, get a good grip on his shirt, and _yank_.

They both tumbled into the center of the river, Sokka laughing and Zuko yelling. When they re-emerged into the night air, Zuko was scowling and spluttering more than ever, his shirt plastered wetly to his chest.

“That’s it?” he coughed. “That’s all you’ve got to say?”

“No,” Sokka answered, watching him tread water and feeling more naked than ever. Zuko had grown up by the ocean too, he remembered, and it gave him a funny little sense of pride to see what a strong swimmer the other boy was. “I’ve got more to say.”

“You’ve _always_ got something to say,” Zuko grumbled, and looked off to the side through his wet bangs. His cheeks were still glowing pink.

“I just—well, thanks. And I—well, I—”

Zuko glanced at him sideways, part glaring, part despairing, and Sokka’s last doubts vanished.

“I really want to kiss you,” he tumbled out; Zuko’s eyes went wide in the dark. “Can I?”

“You want to— _what?_ ”

The words were hushed, unbelieving, and Sokka had to stifle a laugh. “ _Kiss_ you, dummy. Would that be okay?”

Zuko just stared at him, and toed backwards until he could touch the silty bottom. He still looked like he couldn’t believe his ears. Sokka followed, determined to be patient. 

“Kiss me? But—”

“But what?” 

“Why?”

Sokka blinked. “What do you mean, _why?_ I’ve been telling you why! Honestly, doesn’t anyone _listen_ to me?”

“Yes,” Zuko said immediately, missing the sarcasm. “ _I_ do. But Sokka—”

“Yeah?”

“Everyone likes you. You could have anyone,” Zuko said, sounding so genuinely confused in that moment that Sokka wanted to hold him. 

“Well,” he said, swallowing hard, mastering himself, “maybe _I_ like _you_.”

Zuko looked at him. The water dripped off both their hair, _plink plink plinking_ into the river.

_Please say yes, please say yes, please say yes…_

“Okay,” Zuko whispered, like he was expecting to be punked at any moment but hoping for the best. His eyes closed. Sokka’s heart was beating so hard he was afraid it would leap out of his mouth, and there was certainly no ignoring the fact that he was naked now. But there was nothing for it—no way he could resist.

When their lips first touched, Zuko twitched; a second later, he relaxed. His lips were so, so warm under Sokka’s, and softer than he’d expected. His scent was heavy, this close and personal. Their mouths pulled on a breath and then pushed together again, eager for another taste. Zuko’s hands floated in fists on top of the water, and the heat in Sokka’s feet was rising up, up, up. Zuko must have chewed some kind of Fire Nation herb after dinner, because his breath was fresh and spicy, and Sokka’s hands were on his upper arms now without thinking about it, feeling the hard muscle there—

Zuko gasped into the kiss and then their tongues met, and it was more stiffening and melting all over again. It was strange at first and then delicious, and then hungry and clumsy. Whatever it was, they both wanted more of it, and they were both determined. That heat grew, and grew, and grew… and eventually Sokka realized that the heat was _real_ , swirling out in warming currents from Zuko’s body. He was literally simmering the water— that had to be a good sign, right? But he wasn’t the only one turned on. It was when Sokka pushed a little too close that Zuko must have felt him, and he jerked back like he’d been shocked.

“Sorry!” Sokka gasped in at once. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s okay,” Zuko panted. His pupils were wide, his irises mere slivers of gold in the dark, making him look more catlike than ever. “It’s okay, it’s not like I don’t—I mean, I get it—”

And he surged forward this time, and the pocket of water around him was hot, the way a rare, precious hot bath was hot. He pulled Sokka to him, and Sokka pushed to press their lips together, and Zuko didn’t seem to mind this time when their bodies collided—in fact, Sokka could feel him too, hard underwater, and it made him bite into the other boy’s kiss.

“Unh!”

Zuko grunted and Sokka nipped him again, pushing his shirt down into the water the rest of the way.

“You’re wearing way too much clothing—”

“Not the pants, okay?” Zuko gasped. “Not yet.”

“Okay,” Sokka kissed where that hollow cheek always blushed for him. “Whatever you want.”

Zuko groaned. Sokka made sure to toss his shirt onto the riverbank. Zuko’s clothes weren’t going to get swept away on _his_ watch.

“You’re always so nice to me,” Zuko muttered—his eyes were sort of glazed over, and even though Sokka was kissing his neck now, it seemed like his words were having an equal effect.

“You deserve it,” Sokka said honestly, and Zuko huffed out a breath. It was a needy, half-cracked sound, and it spurred Sokka on.

His hands were surer now, now that he was certain Zuko wanted it, and they moved from hard shoulders to hard back, embracing for a moment. Zuko was all boy, so hot and hard and wiry, and Sokka found, to his slight surprise, that he didn’t mind it at all; in fact, he liked it. His hands slid from back to bare chest, and over nipples that were hard in the water. Zuko jerked in response, so Sokka slid his thumbs in circles, over and over. 

“That feels good,” Zuko murmured, so low it was almost inaudible. Sokka smiled, and pressed their lips together again. It was pure heat, around him and inside of him, and Zuko’s little twitch with every circle of his thumbs was gut-stinging. Fuck, he needed to talk, needed to find his breath somehow…

“It’s good to make you feel good,” he said. Zuko’s breath hitch in response. Below the water, warm, strong fingers wrapped around him, and it was his turn to gasp—fuck, that was enveloping, like he was covered from base to tip, like the heart of him was wrapped in Zuko’s hand…

“Don’t stop,” Zuko whispered.

Sokka sucked in a shuddery breath. That hand began to move below the water, back and forth, with a twist at the top—even with the drag of the water, it was warm and sure and familiar, and Sokka knew that Zuko was stroking him the same way he stroked himself. It nearly made him choke all over again.

“Okay,” he swallowed. “Gods, Zuko…”

Another intake of breath. So he liked hearing his name, too…

Sokka summoned every bit of willpower he had.

“You’re making me feel so good,” he whispered, and moved his hands. One stayed at Zuko’s pectoral, moving in steady circles, and one went to his back. He trailed his nails over the skin there, over the places that he knew were sensitive, and listened for Zuko’s little yelping gasps to map out the territory. Below the water, he was still being stroked, squeezed, and that light twist at the top was making his knees go watery. Pretty soon he was going to get swept away in the current. 

“Don’t stop, Zuko,” he breathed, and even through slitted eyes he saw Zuko’s head tip back, his lip caught between his teeth in the effort to be quiet. The ends of his hair, so long now, spread out in the current; the night was so loud around them, the nightbirds and waterfalls upstream whirling into a roar. 

The steady rhythm of Zuko’s hand persisted, and they were kissing again; and then Zuko was rubbing up against him through his billowing pants, like he was unable to help it. Sokka made him know he was welcome, pressed a thigh back against his hard length and got an arm around his waist—and they moved together in the water, sending waves of heat downstream.

“Sokka—” Zuko was sucking air, moving his hand faster, and Sokka bit back a groan of his own. “I can’t last that long—I’m gonna—”

“Me too,” Sokka said. “Count of three?”

“Shut up!” Zuko gasped. “No!”

“Okay,” Sokka agreed. “C’mere, then—”

And then they were kissing again, and it was sloppy and messy and no-holds-barred; and they were really shamelessly dry humping now (could it be dry if it was underwater?) and it felt _incredible_. Really, they should have tried it before… Why had they been wasting all this time?

“So good,” Sokka breathed. The tightness in his stomach was nearly unbearable now. “ _So_ good, Zuko—”

And Zuko’s breath stuttered, and he squeezed on his twist and then Sokka was coming with a gasp, hot into his hand, each pulse quickly swept away by the river. The jelly of his knees was, for an instant, absolute— waves of hot pleasure were surging out from his very center, zinging around Zuko’s firm fingers. And Zuko’s hand was still moving around him, riding it out for him, wanting to please even as he, too, started to fall apart in the current. Sokka melted and pushed and adored all at once then, running his hands all over the bare skin in front of him and pushing his hip against Zuko’s hardness. The pushes turned into a rhythm, and he kneaded the right shoulder, skimmed his nails over the lower left side, remembering how it’d made him shudder and sigh. Now, Zuko choked.

“Sokka—”

“Love seeing you feel good,” Sokka murmured. “Come on, Zuko. Feel good.”

Zuko’s eyes closed and his breath hitched and he rutted against Sokka’s thigh, his rhythm stuttering. A moment later, and Sokka could feel him surge— he longed to palm it, but resisted. He could wait. There might even be another time. Instead, he kissed Zuko as he came and let him tremble apart in his arms, keeping them both from getting swept away in the current, even with jelly-legs. He’d definitely have to be the practical one, but that was okay. That was a role he could fill.

He made it as obvious as he could that he didn’t mind Zuko using him a little—he pushed against him some more, trying to help him ride it out too. They clung to each other in the water. It was a long time before Zuko’s feet touched bottom again, but Sokka didn’t mind. He was floating, warm and content, and strangely melty on the inside.

A warm wind rushed overhead and Zuko drew back a bit, shoulders tensing back up, seemingly remembering himself. Sokka grabbed him, pressing a kiss to his lips before he could react. When he released him, Zuko was turning pink again.

“Sokka,” he murmured. 

“What?” Sokka whispered. “How can you already talk? I feel like I saw a star explode.”

Zuko smiled his little half-smile. Sokka would never get tired of seeing him like this. His breathing was still heavy, his lips pink and swollen. “You’re still terrible at poetry.”

“I don’t care what you think,” Sokka said. “I mean every word of it, and that’s what matters. Now, wash your pants and then come find me. We need to sleep. We’ve got a big day tomorrow.”

“What’s happening tomorrow?”

“Who knows? _Something_ lethal, I’m sure.”

“True.”

There was the sound of water and croaking badgerfrogs.

“Sokka?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you really think I have nice cheekbones?”

Sokka huffed out a laugh. “Do you really think my lines are like a kata?”

“Yes,” Zuko snapped, all indignant, like a touch of his classic spice. “They are.”

“Yeah, Zuko. I really do think you’ve got nice cheekbones.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

Sokka could see his smile. It really was like the sun, even through the dark.

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know what you think!! :)


End file.
